


Important Moments in the Passing of Time

by missalline



Series: Jaguar-verse [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missalline/pseuds/missalline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every relationship has its own important moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Important Moments in the Passing of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holnnes (nicolebrander)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolebrander/gifts).



> Part of a Secret Santa gift exchange. Set in the same universe as "Like a Jaguar Hiding in a Cello Dipped in Chocolate" but both can be read without having read the other.

Molly loved being pregnant. She loved the thought of bringing a new life into the world, loved how happy the pregnancy made Sherlock, and loved how being pregnant had opened an avenue of intimacy that neither of them had even considered before. Sure, there were some less than pleasant aspects, like spending an hour each morning for the first two months stuck in the bathroom being sick, but overall she really did love it.   Though, at this moment in time it was proving rather difficult to convince herself that love it she did. Right now all she could think about was how here feet were killing, about how they were killing her because the pregnancy was making them swell, and about how much she hated it.

Her shift seemed to stretch on forever and by the end the thought of getting on the tube or catching a bus was entirely unappealing. Sherlock had gotten somewhat overprotective since she’d gotten pregnant and preferred it when she took a cab anyway, and today she was only happy to oblige. The sooner she got home the sooner she would be able to put her feet up and take a well-deserved rest. Arriving at Baker Street and practically hearing her comfy chair calling, Molly managed to find the will power to pull herself up the stairs to the flat she and Sherlock now shared.

The sight that greeted her made her promptly burst into tears.  
  
“Not… good?” Sherlock asked hesitantly, standing awkwardly in the middle of their sitting room. He knew that her feet had been bothering her more than usual so in the hour before she should be getting home he had set out everything needed for a proper footbath and massage. He thought she would be happy. He didn’t think he would make her _cry_.

“Oh, Sherlock,” she sighed, wiping at her eyes, “This is lovely. Really. I’m just crying because of the hormones.” She dropped her bag in the floor waddled over to him, hugging him as tightly as her belly would allow.

Sherlock squeezed her back quickly before pulling away and leading her over to her chair. “Sit,” he said, “I need to heat the water up. It will just be a few minutes.”

Molly carefully lowered herself into her chair with a happy sigh. This was the Sherlock Holmes that very few people ever saw. This was the Sherlock Holmes that Molly had fallen in love with. Her crush on him had blossomed when they had first met, but it had stayed a minor crush until she had gotten to know him. Even before they had become friends there were moments when his true nature would break through his façade.

********

The first time she noticed how sweet he truly was had been three months after she met him. She had watched him be sweet to manipulate people from the moment he had stepped into the lab, but had never seen him be sincerely sweet. On this day she’d been called into work early to show a victim’s body and Sherlock had been one of the people she was showing it to. She pulled the body out and went through he notes, yawning all the while.

“Sorry,” she remarked after a particularly long yawn, “Had to skip my morning coffee to get here in time.” She’d carried on with the rest of the report not thinking anything of what she’d said. After everyone left Molly put the body away and went about starting her daily tasks that had been postponed. When the doors to the lab opened a few minutes later she was surprised to see Sherlock had returned.

“Hello again,” she said brightly, walking over to stand in front of him, “do you need to see the body again.”

He shook his head and held out his arm, offering her the paper coffee cup he was holding. “Carmel mocha, two sugars,” he said, giving her a small smile, “because you missed your morning cup.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” she said, taking the cup with a genuine smile, “This is very sweet of you.”

“Yes, well,” he said before promptly turning and sweeping from the room.

********

Sherlock came back over with the kettle and emptied it into the small plastic tub Molly kept around for this specific purpose. Kneeling next to it, he took off her shoes and socks and carefully eased both of her feet into the hot water.

“Is the temperature alright?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” she sighed, relaxing.

********

Of course, even she hadn’t realized how deeply he loved until he asked her to help him survive jumping from a roof. The reason for the act itself would have decided it for most people, but what happened after had really cemented it for her. She taken him home, cleaned off the blood, treated the bruises as best she could, and when the supplies to cast his broken wrist had shown up at her door she took them and did so without question. Physically he’d managed to come away from the jump relatively alright. Mentally she wasn’t so sure.

At first she’d thought he was just in his mind palace. That’s what it had looked like, so she left him be. Hours passed and she went to bed thinking that he’d be up and about the next morning. But when she woke up he was still unresponsive and he still hadn’t moved by the time she was getting ready for bed the next night. She didn’t have much experience with him being in his mind palace, but the longest she’d ever seen stay there was an hour. A whole day couldn’t be normal, could it? She wanted to check but the only person who would know was John and she couldn’t very well ask him right now. So she decided to give him one more night. If nothing had changed when she woke up again then she would try to do something.

The next morning she wasn’t really surprised to discover that he had stayed exactly the same. She went and sat with him, carefully taking his uninjured hand in hers.

“It’s okay if you need to mourn,” she started in a near whisper, “You’ve lost something, even if it’s not forever, and that hurts. It’s okay to grieve.” He gave no indication that he’d heard, but that didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t.

Molly got back up and went about her day. She made breakfast and showered, did a bit of tidying up, and when she ran out of cleaning she started baking. Sherlock still hadn’t moved by the time she went to bed, but she wasn’t sure there was anything she could do.

She was nearly asleep when she heard him move. ‘ _He must need the toilet_ ,’ she thought, ‘ _or something to drink_.’ But she was wrong. He came straight to her bedroom and climbed into bed with her, curling around her and pressing his forehead against her chest. A moment later he started to sob.

“Oh, Sherlock,” she sighed sadly, feeling helpless and wrapping her arms around him. She knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel any better. Instead of trying to help with useless words she rubbed his back and carded her fingers through his hair.

********

“Is that peppermint?” Molly asked as Sherlock squeezed a few drops of oil into the tub.

He nodded and ‘Uhm-humm-ed’. “It’s supposed to help with the swelling,” he playfully boasted. It was the tone he used whenever he wanted her to be proud of him for some bit of research he’d done that he deemed silly.

“How thoughtful,” Molly grinned.

********

 Molly had known that she loved him for years. Her love for him hadn’t developed quickly and she could remember no sudden realization of her feelings. She just knew that she loved him. But there were two moments in her memories regarding love and Sherlock Holmes that that were clear and important. She knew exactly when it was that she realized _he_ loved _her_ and she knew the moment that she understood that she loved him more than she loved anyone else.

She understood that she was important to him when he’d told her he needed her, but she didn’t understand he loved her until after he’d come back. The phrase, “I hope you’ll be happy, Molly Hooper,” and the chaste kiss that followed paired with the heartbreak in his eyes may as well of been “I love you, Molly Hooper.” But she couldn’t do anything about it because she was engaged to Tom, because she loved Tom.

She wasn’t wrong. She did love Tom, but she loved Sherlock much, much more. And she knew it when she saw him leave John and Mary’s wedding reception and wanted nothing more than to go after him. She broke it off with Tom the next day.

“I don’t love you as much as I should,” she explained softly. He didn’t seem surprised.

********

This was not the first time she told Sherlock he had magic hands, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He adored touching her just for the sake of touching her. He was always brushing against her in the lab, quickly touching her lower back when entering a room, holding her hand when they walked, and they usually slept with him wrapped around her. She often got back rubs and neck rubs and such, too, but at the moment she couldn’t remember why she asked for them when his thumb could be digging into her aching and swollen arch. She moaned when he worked at a particularly sore spot and sank deeper into the chair.

“If I was a sexual person we’d probably be having some after this,” he quipped.

“Like I’m going to let you stop,” she joked right back.

********

Their first date was a disaster. Sherlock took her to an up-scale restaurant that made them both uncomfortable and then to a movie he had no interest in seeing. He escorted her back to her flat, though they both sat in silence the entire way.

“I’m sorry,” he said resignedly once they were outside her door, “I thought- I wanted it to be better.”

“It’s okay, Sherlock. First dates are almost always terrible.” She reached out and squeezed his arm gently, trying to tell him that she wasn’t mad or upset.  
  
“John said dinner and a movie,” he told her, “He said that was standard procedure for first dates.”

“Normally,” she agreed, “But it doesn’t work for everyone. Next time just take me somewhere you’ll be comfortable, okay?”

His eyes got brighter when she said ‘next time’. Had he thought she wouldn’t want another date?

“Okay,” he said, smiling.

When the second date did come he took her to Angelo’s and then back to Baker Street. They had a cuddle on the sofa while they disused how ridiculous the ‘ancient aliens’ program on the telly was. 

********

By the time Sherlock was done rubbing her feet Molly was so relaxed that she had practically fallen asleep in the chair. He helped her get changed and into bed and then crawled in with her.

“I’ll clean up the foot bath tomorrow,” he promised, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and gently draping an arm over her belly. Molly’s only response was a non-committal noise.

“You’re going to be a great dad,” she said a few minutes later. They were both half asleep but she wanted to say it while she was thinking about it. Anyone who would go to such great lengths to make sure their friends were safe and happy, who tried to fix mistakes made concerning people they cared about, would make a wonderful parent.

Sherlock squeezed her tighter for a brief moment. “It’s nice to hear you say that.”

“It’s true,” she said, “I should have said it before.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, kissing her neck, “now go to sleep. You have to work again tomorrow.”

Molly groaned in protest of working again but followed his advice about sleep. They fell asleep quickly, happy to be holding each other in a quiet moment just as important as every other.


End file.
